Conclusions Drawn Too Late
by Lauriarty
Summary: He should have paid more attention. He could have been more suspicious. But now it was too late, and a knife held by Hannibal Lecter was splitting Will Graham down the middle.


Will Graham brought his hand up to the large, painted door, the sound of knuckles hitting wood echoing throughout the empty but peaceful neighborhood. He knocked four times before stepping back to wait patiently. Soon, the lamp that hung by the top of the door flickered on. Bright, yellow light joined the faint glow of the partly-covered moon to illuminate Wills tired and fatigued face. He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn.

After a few seconds, he glanced at his watch, sighing at the sight of its hour arm pointing towards the twelve. Right now he should be lying in bed, thinking about the same killer for the hundredth night. But it had been too long, and he had taken too much time procrastinating. He knew he had to get this settled and tell someone.

The cool, night air transformed slowly into a light breeze as waves would begin to rise. Will shivered and crossed his arms against his chest, thin jacket not nearly enough to secure him from the cold. He couldn't help but wish he had at least brought a scarf or gloves.

Will breathed a sigh of relief when the chain rattled against the door from the inside. There was another sliding of locks before the door swung open. Hannibal Lecter stood in the doorway with an entirely neutral expression, his tall and muscular form dressed in a suit despite the extremely late hour.

As soon as the door had opened, Will had been greeted with the fresh smell of brewed tea and a cooked meal. It brought a sort of warmth and he cleared his throat, hoping that he hadn't just interrupted Hannibal's peaceful time.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you; it was sort of an emergency."

Hannibal gave a small nod in reply. "I don't mind." He turned as he gestured inside. "I was simply about to have a late dinner. Would you like to come in? It is quite cold outside."

Will put his hands in his pocket and smiled politely. "That would be nice. Though I just want to talk about some things concerning the case instead of... Well, me."

Hannibal nodded again, still expressionless.

"By all means." He opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Will in. The door was closed and locked again once his guest was inside. "Would you like me to hang your coat somewhere?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you," Will said, shrugging off his coat to gratefully welcome the heat.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Hannibal said, gesturing toward the couch in the living room. "I'll be with you shortly."

Will walked into the living room as Hannibal disappeared momentarily with the coat. Will looked around for a moment, the room already familiar from previous visits. It really did seem true that Lecter had been up at this time, because some of the large books from the bookshelves that lined the walls were now scattered on the various available surfaces. He glanced at a few of the titles and became briefly interested in an open cookbook.

Soon, however, Will's thoughts were interrupted when Hannibal joined him in the room, sitting comfortably in a chair across the couch. The man rested his hands on his knee. "So. Shall we begin?"

"Definitely," Will said, twisting his fingers as he wondered where to start. "Well, like I hinted, it's about the recent killings."

"Oh?" Hannibal said, suddenly looking more interested. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Will nodded. "You see, I've been thinking a lot about it recently..."

"Have you been having dreams about it?"

Will paused. "Yes. I have, actually."

"Is there a possibility that some dream is the cause of you thinking about the killer again?"

"A bit," Will admitted, watching Hannibal carefully. "I just... I remembered how the killer had been taking some of the organs of his victims..."

"I do recall," Hannibal said.

"...And well, I got an idea."

"Go on," Hannibal insisted, leaning forward in his seat.

"I know it's going to sound really unusual, but we've had unusual so many other times. Like we've discussed before, our killer is someone with a fair amount of medical knowledge, and could be skilled in something similar to surgery." _Like how you were with that bleeding man in the truck._ "It's just... I think I know what the killer is doing with the organs." He hesitated, waiting for a reaction.

"I don't think the killer is keeping the organs for his own pleasure of having it there," he continued slowly. "I think he's... Well, I think he's eating them."

Although it had already been quiet, it felt as if someone had pressed a mute button, silencing the entire room. The worst thing was that Hannibal's face darkened for half a second - so quickly that Will almost couldn't tell if it actually had occurred.

Then, Hannibal returned to his neutral state, though there was an odd glint in his eye that Will couldn't quite place. They sat there for what seemed like ages, Will watching the gears turn in Hannibal's mind. It was uncomfortably awkward, and Will shifted in his seat a couple of times, realizing that his instinct was telling him to get out of there.

The silence was broken by Hannibal.

"That is... interesting. Very interesting indeed."

"I know it's weird, but -"

"You decided to come here first."

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't gone to Crawford, have you?" Hannibal's tone seemed calm but the urgency for an answer was clear in his eyes.

Will licked his lips nervously. If he told a lie, Hannibal would see right through it. Besides, what was there to hide?

Still, there was a nagging feeling and the dishonest words left his lips before he could stop it. "Well, not exactly."

His phone suddenly felt heavy in his pocket.

"Please excuse me for a moment," Hannibal said at once, rising to his feet. "I must attend to something immediately. I will return... in a moment."

Will realized he was holding his breath before he nodded, but Hannibal had already disappeared upstairs.

All at once, the unsettling thought returned. It was a thought that had been conjured only a few times - simply another unimaginable idea that seemed too much, even now. He immediately shook his head, feeling foolish. What a horrible person he was to even accuse Hannibal of anything. Maybe he was right about himself - he was going just a bit crazy.

But. The thought didn't seem to be going away. Instead his mind began connecting things together. He reluctantly close his eyes as he stood up, the couch suddenly sounding too loud. He took a deep breath and began to imagine himself as the killer again.

It would be the first time and the last.

All the missing people. That one woman Crawford had sent and lost. The one who had been investigating the same thing as he. Will imagined himself as the Chesapeake Ripper. A feeling of rage erupted inside him when he thought about the copycat. Someone had taken his design and copied it. Showed that copied design off.

That son of a bitch.

He wanted to show them all that the copycat killer was simply another unoriginal, reckless person that was making his own murders look bad. He had to at least remind the police that the original, real killer was still here. And so when the woman arrived to investigate, he killed her to make a point - a message.

No. That didn't sound right. Not even remotely. No - he killed her because he had to.

Because she had figured him out.

It all happened too fast; he barely had time to think one more thought. Will's eyes snapped open, even though he had automatically assumed he was still imagining. Then he began to gasp for air.

He choked against the muscular arm that was wrapped tightly around his neck, crushing his windpipe. Hannibal's body was pressed against Will's back, and the usually calm and calculated voice now had a rougher, more aggressive tone to it.

"Shh," Hannibal soothed, barely audible to Will now. "You know, I really did underestimate you. Won't happen again."

He couldn't breath. Will struggled helplessly against Hannibal's brutal strength, trying to scream. The air had been forced out of his lungs, and so no sound came out except for ragged, broken gasps.

In an instant, a white-hot pain washed over Will when a sharp, glinting knife was thrust cruelly into his stomach.

He couldn't see. The pain was blinding him, and his heart pumped vigorously and uselessly, the rhythmic, rapid beat pounding in his ears.

"I really am sorry about this, Will," Hannibal muttered into Will's left ear. "But I don't have any other choice. I wish it hadn't come to this."

The man sounded truly sorry and somewhat heartbroken. Though that notice was quickly dismissed from Will's thoughts. There was a new, tearing sound and Will jerked in anguish as the knife was twisted even deeper in his abdomen. It felt like Hell.

Shit. This was it. It had to be. Will was going to die here. His body would most likely be hidden just like the others... or eaten, in this case. Added to Hannibal's 'dinner' tonight.

He should have paid more attention. He could have been more suspicious. But now it was too late, and a knife held by Hannibal Lecter was splitting Will Graham down the middle.

Will's knees buckled, legs finally giving out underneath him. His body collapsed onto the ground after Hannibal released him. It was so dark and dizzy and everything hurt so much.

Will blinked, gulping in as much as air as he could. He was only able to make out Hannibal looming over him. Hannibal Lecter... the one who Will had spoken to about everything that troubled him. He told Hannibal almost everything during their secluded sessions. Dreams, thoughts, etc., etc., etc. He had worked with him on countless cases, and he had trusted him. He really had. The man had even been considered a friend, and now he was staring down at Will like a majestic lion about to devour its dying and injured prey.

Will's hands unconsciously flew to his stomach. He could feel fresh blood pouring out of the wound, spilling on his shaking hands and onto Hannibal's carpet. He couldn't help but wonder now how the man - no, the monster - would clean the mess. Though considering Hannibal had gone this far murdering so many people right under the police's noses, it wasn't like he couldn't hide Will. He wasn't any different. Even if anyone did find him, he'd just be another cold, lifeless, rotting body on a slab surrounded by clueless people had had once worked with.

Will was beginning to grow weaker by the second, muscles going limp. He was lying in a puddle of his own hot, crimson blood that was now staining and soaking the carpet. A rusty, deathly smell filled the air as a tiring darkness overwhelmed him.

All was lost and all was hopeless. Then, the door burst open, the chain breaking and flinging to hit the wall.

_"Freeze!"_

That voice. He must be imagining it. All the same, it gave him a small feeling of hope and relief. It could all end now. If all the pain, betrayal, and suffering he had been forced to endure in the past hour meant everything would come to a closure, it would have been worth it. Hannibal Lecter - killer and cannibal - could be caught.

Thank goodness.

Finally, Will Graham's world and mind collapsed all at once and he sank into a seemingly never-ending darkness.

* * *

**A/N: All errors are mine entirely.**

**And honestly, I just wanted to have written at least one Hannibal fic. Plus, we all have to do ****_something_**** during math class. Anyway. Thanks for reading!**


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